


A convivial evening

by Mossgreen



Series: 2770 ab urbe condita [50]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Beads, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, M/M, Master/Slave, Objectification, Oral Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18444215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/pseuds/Mossgreen
Summary: It's not all fun and games when Master has a friend come for dinner





	A convivial evening

This evening was not a party with several guests, but a quiet dinner with one guest, where the after-dinner entertainment, rather than the meal, was the focus of the evening. The meal was friendly, although the conversation between the master and his guest was quiet and the slaves were soon dismissed so that Master could take his guest to the playroom for dessert... and ‘dessert’.

Ven had not helped serve the meal; he was no longer a house-slave, no longer expected to do the run-of-the-mill things the house-slaves did, such as serve at table when Master was entertaining. He did on occasion, but no longer did so as a rule.

The playroom had been rearranged, with two couches brought from the other _triclinium_ set opposite one another by one wall. Instead of the usual table between them, Ven was kneeling on a cushion, wearing a silk tunic in the same wine colour as his usual livery, although this one was even shorter, as well as being sheer, hiding nothing while fulfilling all the technical requirements of being clothing. He had been posed almost as a statue; he was using both hands to support the large dish of fruit and pastries balanced on one shoulder. 

He glanced up as his master and his master’s guest entered the room, before lowering his eyes again. The master’s guest was an older man, ‘going a little to seed’, as Icarus would say. Although it was plain that he had been fit in his younger days, he now had the look of a man who enjoyed the finer things in life. He was… not fat, but with some of the flab of an older man whose metabolism was not what it had once been. Ven recognised him as the man who had been so interested in his arse at that particular party a few weeks earlier, the one whose bare hand stung like Master’s oak paddle. He racked his brain for the name… Numerius Caprenius Messala, who must be one of Master’s Legion friends or something. ‘Messala’ was just as aristocratic a name as ‘Metellus’, after all.

The only things that gave Ven away as a living human being, rather than a statue, were that quick flash of green eyes, the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickened, and the gentle movement of the short silk tunic in the air current caused by the opening and closing of the door.

The sheer silk did not hide the glint of metal at Ven’s nipples, where he had a weight hanging from each ring, nor did it hide the flaccid cock between his legs. The harness had been removed earlier, and the only other sign of his servitude (apart from his position kneeling on the floor) was the steel chain around his neck, with the hanging tag proclaiming his status as his master’s property.

"Dare I confess to envying you a little, Metellus?" his guest asked, carelessly helping himself to a pastry from the platter. "He’s the prettiest boy. Did you fulfil your threat of making him beg for your cock?"

"Yes. He does, frequently, though only when aroused."

"I suppose we might have heard him begging the other week, had he not been cock-gagged for almost the entire evening. I’m well aware of your fondness for keeping your boy’s other end permanently stuffed, though. What do you have in at the moment, slave?"

Ven looked up, startled at being addressed directly, before dropping his gaze submissively, colouring as he replied, "Anal beads, sir."

"This particular set is a new thing for this season," Master said, crossing the room to a drawer. "We do these as a two-part set, one with the largest bead as the first to go in, and the second being set up the other way around, with the first bead being the smallest."

"Oh, I see. What’s that, the size of a lime?"

"Yes. You can see the gradation in sizes here, from the size of a large marble to… yes, that is approximately the size of a lime. Of course, there are different lengths available, the longest with more beads. The beginner’s version has four, up to this pro version, which has eight. Naturally, it has to flex to take into account the slave’s internal, ah, plumbing, so to speak. We wouldn’t want to damage a valuable slave, after all, and the sets are simple enough for even a new master to use on a virgin slave."

"If you have two, that could make for a fun session, if you use one and then the other, and alternate between them. Or make the slave choose which one to put in him - remind him that it doesn’t matter which he chooses because at some point that big ball is going to be the first one to pass his sphincter, either going in or coming out."

"We are considering bringing out a range with the beads all the same size, too. Again, the introductory one would have the smallest size and the professional version would have them all the largest size, though we may decide not to go all the way up to the very largest size that we have on this string."

"You should. With proper stretching and enough lube, slipping a complete set of that size in, or pulling them out, could produce some very satisfying sounds."

"That’s true. And another advantage beads have, of course, is that they cannot be forced out by the slave, they can only be pulled out. It doesn’t matter which of the two designs the slave has in, he cannot push them out himself, and they will keep his body prepared and on edge for you. The flat base these have allow the slave to sit with them in, so he can go about his usual daily routine. We do offer a round handle, but not as standard. Do help yourself to another pastry - I can particularly recommend the chocolate puffs."

The tray was jostled as both citizens helped themselves to a pastry.

"I have to say, Metellus, your playroom is one of the best equipped I have ever seen - although that isn’t surprising."

"Everything here is stocked by Phallusy, of course. You may make use of anything I have, Messala - I am sure that you will not have seen everything here, outside of our catalogue, or the website."

Ven could not help glancing nervously at the wall where the various impact implements were hung by their leather loops, each on its own hook. He dropped his eyes again as his master looked at him, before turning back to his guest. "With the exception of the single-tail, that is - I don’t want to run the risk of having him damaged even inadvertently."

"Of course. Do you think he has been waiting long enough? Perhaps he might like to put that tray down, it looks heavy."

Ven did not particularly want to put the tray down. It _was_ heavy and the position was growing uncomfortable, but this discomfort was bound to be minor in comparison to what Master and his friend might have in mind. It was not a suggestion, however, so he rose to his feet, as gracefully as he could, all things considered, and set the tray on the table. Unsure of whether to assume his position kneeling on the floor or not, he opted to stand with his hands folded in front of him and his head bowed.

He found his arm grasped, going with the physical repositioning and trying not to stumble on feet that were protesting having to take his weight; he could feel the pins-and-needles beginning and wanted nothing more than to shake his feet out to get the blood moving again. Good slaves did not do things like that, though, and he was a good slave.

"He is very pretty," Caprenius Messala said again. "But hairless, Metellus? Surely he’s old enough to have hair?"

"I find it detracts from the view, to have hair around the prick and under the arms. Besides, removing the hair makes those places far more sensitive."

Citizen Messala stepped back, admiring Ven from a slight distance, in a way that somehow made him feel more nude than if he actually were naked.

"It is a very pretty prick. I can see why the clean-shaven look appeals to you; I might have chosen that myself, with this boy." He stepped closer to Ven, so close Ven could feel his body-heat, and lifted his hands to rub Ven’s nipples with his thumbs. Ven could feel the callouses even through the smooth silk of the tunic he was wearing, and his nipples peaked almost instantly.

"What nice tits he has. So responsive, too, Metellus. I do envy you."

One hand drifted lower, to cup Ven’s prick. 

"Shall we start with this?"

A few minutes later, Ven found himself lying on his back on the padded bench, his legs spread and his knees bent, rendering his prick and balls accessible to whatever his master’s guest wished to do. His hands were cuffed beside his head and his ankles to the legs of the table. Citizen Messala reached for the hem of the tunic Ven still wore, lifting the insubstantial silk out of the way. 

"We wouldn’t want to damage this, after all."

Ven looked up at him. He was holding a light suede flogger, and Ven knew exactly where it was going to be applied. It wouldn’t damage him, not unless used with excessive force, but it would certainly hurt, especially if the flogging continued.

"I must admit to being curious about his training," Caprenius Messala said conversationally, swinging the supple tails of the flogger at Ven’s vulnerable prick and balls, causing him to gasp and jerk in his restraints, instinctively trying to close his legs.

"What do you want to know?"

The tails of the flogger continued their assault as the conversation carried on, the two citizens almost ignoring Ven (or at least, not acknowledging him) despite the fact one of them was flogging his prick and balls. His whimpers, moans, gasps and pleas fell on deaf, unheeding ears.

"Is he allowed to come with stimulation to his dick?"

"Yes, although he may not put it in anyone."

"How about coming untouched?"

"Naturally. He is required to ask permission however he wishes to come - and he has never, to my recollection, been permitted to come without something in his arse, whether directly stimulating him or not. I shall make that an absolute requirement in future, I think."

"To be dependant on having his arse stuffed full before being permitted to come…"

Try as he might, Ven’s writhing would not allow him to protect himself. On the contrary, it merely exposed different parts of his cock to the painful caress of the flogger’s strands. He had no idea how long it had been when there was a pause and that hard leathery hand moved to caress his hurting prick and balls.

"Such a nice colour they are."

"Please, sir… please, sir…" The matter-of-fact touches hurt, his prick and balls throbbed, and he just wanted to curl up and nurse the ache.

"We haven’t finished yet, boy."

It seemed that they had, however, finished with the bench because his restraints were unclipped and he was pulled to his feet.

Caprenius Messala seated himself comfortably on the bench and pulled Ven’s wrist, tugging him to lie across his lap, his precious, painful cock pressed between his belly and the citizen’s legs. His tunic was unceremoniously pulled up and that hard leathery hand caressed his arse.

"He has a luscious bum, Metellus."

"I know. Go ahead, it turns a very fetching red when spanked. I won’t deny you the treat."

Ven couldn't help the nervous shiver as his arms were pulled behind him, his wrists gripped in one hand and pressed into the small of his back as that hand kept stroking his bum. It was going to hurt, and the waiting was not helping.

The hand found its way between his legs to the flat base of the string of beads he still had inside, which was tapped and tugged teasingly a little before being settled back in. "I think we’ll wait to pull this out, don’t you?" Messala said above him.

Ven wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not; it was going to be a tease when it was pulled out, and he was very sure that he wouldn’t be left empty for long.

And then all thought was driven out of his head completely as that hard hand landed on his bum. "Oh, Demeter! Mercy, please, sir!"

It was as though he hadn’t spoken. Each swat was hard, deliberate, each landing in a slightly different place so that his whole arse was covered, down to the tops of his thighs. The swats kept coming, the sound of hand meeting bare soft flesh the only thing to be heard in the room apart from Ven’s breathing and the quiet sobs that began as the pain increased, and the breathing of Caperius Messala. Ven could feel the man’s growing erection begin poking him in the side.

"He’s your pet, Metellus. Which end do you suggest, his arse or his mouth?"

"He’s a talented little cock-sucker, but there’s nothing quite like sinking your prick into a well-spanked arse - and that looks a beautifully-spanked bum. A most delicious cherry-red. You may sample both, if you choose."

"Mm, I think I will." The hand on his arse was squeezing now, delighting in the heat of well-spanked skin. "All right, boy, on your knees, let’s see if your mouth is as good as I remember it being."

Ven rolled carefully off, onto the floor, and looked up nervously.

"No hands!"

He nodded, clasping his hands behind his back and nosing carefully under the man’s tunic. He was corpulent, running to fat, and Ven tried not to mind the rolls of flesh around his belly as he tugged at the citizen’s underwear with his teeth before he could get his mouth on his prick. There was a sigh above him and a shift as Citizen Messala leaned back, making it just that little bit easier.

"Gods, that’s hot, watching that," his master’s voice said above him, sounding admiring. Ven didn’t think there was much to see, just the outline of his head under someone else’s tunic, bobbing up and down as he worked on the man’s pleasure. He tried not to think about the stale sweat smell, of the belly fat and the unfamiliar size and taste of the prick he was sucking at.

There was a groan above him, and then a hand on his shoulder pushing him away. He backed away and knelt, looking down at the floor in confusion.

"I’m not going to come in that mouth, I want that pretty cherry-red bum, boy," Messala told him.

"Over the bench here, pet," Master broke in, and Ven scrambled to obey, positioning himself before he fully registered the indignity of it. 

A hand, not his master’s, rested on the small of his back as his wrists and ankles were shackled to the legs of the padded bench.

"And now we can hear those pretty sounds as this comes out," Messala said, tapping the base of the thing Ven still had inside him.

There was a tug and Ven bore down. The smallest bead popped out first, with little difficulty. The rest followed, each bigger than the last, each bumping against that pleasurable spot inside him and each making him groan and whimper as his hole was forced to stretch to allow it past.

The last one felt huge, much bigger than it actually was, and left him feeling empty. He was still breathing hard when a finger touched his hole, pushed in, easing the way with welcome cool lubricant, before it was removed, to be replaced with something much larger as Messala rammed his cock in, up to the hilt in one thrust, his balls slapping against Ven’s own and his corpulent belly tight against Ven’s hot, bright buttocks.

There was movement in front of him and then he was presented with the familiar sight and smell of his master’s prick. He opened his mouth without thinking, accepting it in. Chained into passivity, all he could do was lie there between the two free men, accepting each thrust and movement as they used his body for their own pleasure until they each spilled inside, one deep in his arse and one in his mouth, causing him to swallow desperately. He had not come himself, he had not received enough stimulation (and why would a visiting citizen care about the pleasure of someone else’s slave, anyway?).

"He’s a good boy, your pet," Messala said, stepping away, but not without giving Ven a congratulatory slap which made him jerk, groaning, in his restraints.

"He is. I’m very pleased with him." There was another hand there and something pushing at his hole. A small round thing, then a larger one, and a larger one… Master was feeding the second string of anal beads in, unrelenting, until the largest one made Ven moan at the stretch as it was pushed inside until the narrow handle of the toy was nestled between his cheeks. Once it was firmly settled, Ven was unfastened from the bench and ordered to resume his position between the two dining couches with the tray he had been holding earlier.

His prick was hard, his breathing unsteady and his muscles felt like jelly, but what choice did he have? Master and his guest settled themselves comfortably on the couches, with Ven as their dining table between them.

"Help yourself to some fruit, if you would like - and I’ll send a set of those beads to yours tomorrow," Master said, reaching for a fig for himself.

"I would appreciate that," Messala replied.

The conversation descended into business talk, and other topics Ven had no knowledge of, and he let his mind wander, hoping that his master was pleased with him. It wouldn’t be so bad, if only Master was pleased with him...

**Author's Note:**

> Translation:  
>  _triclinium_ \- dining room, so-called from its arrangement of three couches around a central table


End file.
